(An early Christmas present for EndoratheWitchwriter – she doesn't have many of her stories on this site, but she's one of the most prolific Butterfly Bog writers on Archive Of Our Own and seems to favour human alternate-universes. Endora has an excellent grasp of the characters and you can feel their personalities and relationships coming through when you read, no matter what world she puts them in. I favour the inter-species dynamics of canon-based environments, but since I had this idea for a human AU, I thought I'd dedicate it to her. Go read her stories when you're done here.)

In Good Company

"No." Her voice was perfectly level. She took a sip of her coffee. Despite a dedication to hospitality, Dawn and Sunny didn't buy Turkish coffee, but she had been provided with a pleasant dark roast.

"Please, Marianne?" Dawn's coffee mug was held in both hands and contained at least as much milk as coffee, and possibly twice as much sugar.

"No."

"It'll just be a few tiny little hours!"

"Dawn, I adore you, but I can't look at wedding stuff for five minutes without wanting to throw up." The tidy yellow kitchen had been thoughtfully cleared of all such paraphernalia before her visit. Dawn kept most of it in her home office anyway, but papers tended to migrate.

"We just need a little extra help setting up the table and display mounts and carrying stuff in from the van."

"Get Sunny to do it."

"He can't, he got hired to MC a charity ball on the other side of town the night before. He'll be exhausted." Not to mention that a man with primordial dwarfism didn't tend to be anyone's first choice for a heavy-lifting job.

"Well, I guess you're gonna have to hire someone, cause I'm not doing it."

"I promise you can ditch before the Expo actually opens!"

"No."

"Pretty please?" Dawn gave her big sister the saddest look she could muster. It didn't have the same impact now that she was thirty as it had when she was thirteen, but Marianne still couldn't withstand it.

"Argh … Fine. Two hours, and then I'm gone whether you're ready or not."

Dawn let out a triumphant squeal. Through the window to the backyard, Marianne could see a few sparrows fleeing the birdbath.

"Bog, sweetie, have you ever met –?"

"I'm not interested in dating, Mother." He'd said those words to her so many times they'd nearly lost their meaning. He didn't even look up from his book.

Griselda's dark brown eyes narrowed and she finished her sentence.

"My business partner. Mrs Dawn Kindheart."

So, for once, she wasn't trying to set him up with someone? There had to be a catch. Bog's mother didn't randomly appear in his apartment for casual conversation. Sometimes he regretted giving her a key.

"No …" he conceded slowly.

Maybe it was a ruse to set him up with a friend of her business partner. Or maybe 'Mrs Dawn Kindheart' had a daughter Bog's age – no, that couldn't be it; he hadn't met Mrs Kindheart, but he'd seen her picture while helping his mum upgrade her business' webpage, and she looked younger than he was.

"Well, she came up with a wonderful way to drum up new business. We've rented a booth at a Wedding Expo in the convention centre."

"That's nice." Knowing the word was coming, Bog managed not to flinch at the word 'wedding'.

"The only trouble is that the Expo is next month, so we might not have time to hire someone to help with the heavy lifting while we're setting up …"

"That's a pity." Just because he could recognize a hint didn't mean he was about to take it.

"It would be a shame if we weren't able to display our work to its best advantage … It's not just potential clients we could connect with, it's florists and bakeries and photographers and dress salons and jewellers and musicians … Although Sunny, Mr Kindheart, has quite a few connections with local musicians."

Bog made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He hadn't figured out her trap yet, but he was sure it was there.

"I don't suppose my loving son could spare one morning to help out his darling mother?"

"I –!"

"Oh, wonderful! You're such a sweetie, Bog!"

"Mum –!"

Too late. She was gone.

It was three in the morning. Marianne had a thermos of coffee and a grumpy expression.

"The Expo opens to the public at seven," Dawn explained again, "and I'm hoping we can have everything ready before five so there's time to mingle with the other vendors. Griselda and Bog should be here any minute."

"Bog?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? Griselda's son; he's going to be helping set up, too. There's her car!"

Bog turned out to be a shockingly tall man, possibly twice his mother's height. He didn't look especially muscular or especially pleased to be there.

Dawn and Griselda chitchatted while directing Bog and Marianne where to carry display stands and boxes full of brochures and fliers and sample schedules. How could paper be so heavy? Marianne was getting flashbacks to college, hauling boxes of books donated to the second-hand bookstore she'd worked in, and lugging hefty textbooks all over campus. Sure, as an accountant, Marianne dealt with a lot of paperwork on a daily basis, but she didn't usually have to carry so much of it at once.

Thankfully she didn't have to help with setting up the display itself. Once all the stands were on the table and all the boxes were tucked behind it, Griselda and Dawn tore into the boxes like children at Christmas (or Hanukkah? Marianne thought she'd heard Griselda speaking Yiddish at some point, though that didn't necessarily mean she was Jewish) and the businesswomen arranged their pamphlets and paperwork just so.

"Can I go now?" Bog was eyeing the displays growing around them with distaste and something like wariness.

"We're about done," Griselda agreed. "Be back by ten to take everything down!"

"Before you go," Dawn added, "would the two of you mind doing us one more eensy-teensy favour and getting us some coffee? Treat yourselves, while you're at it." She pressed some money into Marianne's hand.

Marianne and Bog looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well …"

"If I kept my eyes shut, would you lead me through this?" Mrs Kindheart's sister – Marianne – asked him. "If I never see another white dress, it'll be too soon."

They'd gotten lost trying to bring coffee back to his mother and her sister. Bog was surrounded by more flowers and fine china and fancy napkins than he'd ever wanted to imagine. There were candles and candies and – okay, the tattoo display, for couples who wanted to design matching tattoos instead of rings, was an interesting concept, but most of it made him want to gag. Especially the 'custom cocktails' – he'd paid his way through his computer programming classes by working as a bartender and occasional bouncer, and he considered those bizarrely-coloured abominations to be a waste of alcohol.

"Frankly I think I'd rather burrow through the floor than try to navigate this mess," he admitted. "If we can find a wall, would you be interested in trying our luck with the air vents?"

She laughed. It was a nice laugh; a commiserating laugh.

"I never should have agreed to this. I hate this stuff."

At least she had agreed to it. "I hate it more."

"Oh, yeah? If I could get away with it, I'd get back at Dawn for this by splashing her sugary so-called coffee all over these frothy frou-frou things."

"If I could get away with it, I'd steal that stupid coloured alcohol, put it in a water gun, and spray it all over the dresses."

"I would steal all the candy and give it to a bunch of toddlers."

"I would light all the candles and drip wax on all the flower displays."

Marianne smiled vindictively. Bog grinned back.

"After we deliver coffee, do you want to go play paintball or laser-tag or something?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Bog asked, instantly wary.

"Oh god no, I hate love! This whole – thing," she gestured around them, nearly spilling her coffee and Dawn's; "it's just a huge lie that suckers people in and gets them hurt."

"Yeah." Bog checked to make sure he was holding up his coffee instead of his mother's before taking a sip. "Fools rush in. Thank god we're smarter than that."

"So, paintball?"

"Sure."

They didn't tell Dawn and Griselda they had plans, but if either Bog or Marianne had looked behind them when they left together, they would have seen Griselda and Dawn exchange a high-five.

Marianne and Bog would get married two years later. His sister-in-law and her mother-in-law would never let them live down how they met.